LOGIN“Hello?” Clarissa repeated.
Giovanni’s heart was slamming against his ribs. Say something. Say something!
“Hello?” she said again.
“Clarissa…”
His voice was barely more than a whisper. Silence followed. Then —
“Giovanni?”
The way she said his name. Soft. Uncertain. As if confirming a g
Moments later, while Andrea slept in his nursery under the watchful gaze of his nanny, Lorenzo and Ivy walked hand in hand toward the east wing where Nonno Salvatore was waiting for them.They had both freshened up. Ivy wore a soft floral dress that skimmed her body gently, a quiet celebration of the life she had brought into the world. Lorenzo had abandoned his usual armour of suits.His shirt sleeves were rolled up, tucked into tailored pants, and he looked younger, lighter. Fatherhood had softened the hard edges that once defined him.As they walked, Ivy tightened her hold on his hand.“I still can’t believe this is real,” she murmured.Lorenzo glanced at her. “What part? The sleepless nights or the tiny dictator who already controls this entire family?”Ivy laughed softly. “All of it. Andrea. Us. This life. Sometimes I
Lorenzo woke slowly, as though surfacing from a deep, warm ocean. For a few seconds, he did not move. He simply lay there, his eyes closed, breathing in the quiet of the morning. The room was still, wrapped in the gentle gold of early sunlight filtering through the curtains. The mansion, which was rarely ever silent, seemed to be holding its breath.Then he heard it. A soft, rhythmic sound. It was Andrea. Lorenzo opened his eyes.
The celebration lingered long after the music softened. Hours later, when the last of the guests had been escorted to their suites or chauffeured away, the Martinelli mansion felt different. The glitter and laughter had faded, replaced by something quieter, heavier, and far more dangerous.The War Room waited. Lorenzo stood outside its double doors, his hand resting briefly on the polished wood. For a moment, he closed his eyes. Peace, he reminded himself. Yo
Lorenzo stood at the tall window in his private study, staring out over the vast grounds of the Martinelli estate, but he wasn’t really seeing anything. The sun was rising slowly, bathing the mansion in gold, yet his mind was already racing ahead to the day’s events.Behind him, Ivy adjusted the delicate buttons on Andrea’s christening outfit with trembling fingers.“Stop pacing,” she said softly.
“Hello?” Clarissa repeated.Giovanni’s heart was slamming against his ribs. Say something. Say something!“Hello?” she said again.“Clarissa…”His voice was barely more than a whisper. Silence followed. Then —“Giovanni?”The way she said his name. Soft. Uncertain. As if confirming a ghost.“Yes,” he managed. “It’s me.”Silence again. Heavy. Loaded. He could hear her breathing faintly on the other end. Then Clarissa spoke.“I… I’m sorry.”He blinked. What?“I’ve been meaning to call you, but then I realised that I never got your number,” Clarissa continued quietly. “I owe you an apology
The gates of the mansion swung open slowly, deliberately, as though the estate itself understood the gravity of the moment. Ivy shifted slightly in the back seat, her arms tightening instinctively around baby Andrea. The tiny bundle stirred, his small face scrunching before settling again against his mother’s chest.Lorenzo glanced sideways at Ivy, a quiet smile playing at his lips.“You’re nervous,” he said gently.







